A Needy Lil' Soul
by somatogenic
Summary: Gorillaz. A tea party goes very, very wrong. 2D focus. Slight M2


**AN: Mmmm, been really obsessed with the Gorillaz lately (to put it lightly), obviously, doing fanart, comics, reading lots and lots of M/2 ficcies, and sort of, well, noticed the, er, lack of . . . love. And the G need love. They are absolutely revolutionary! They have taken all my loves together; rock music to groove out to, wonderful animation, a message to all the fakes, and a awesome band image, to create, to me, pure perfection. There is honestly nothing better. And I am behind them all the way. So, this is my first (online) contribution to the madness. More to come my dearies!  
**  
Mwahs to all!

**Note About The Actual Fic: 1 This takes place between phase one and two, a month after everyone gets back together. 2 I am a crap American. I'm not going to even try to do the accents, lovely to read as they are, I just can't write them (Though I will write in what I think is appropriate). I refuse to listen to the G's voices when talking and such, cus A)the voice actor for 2D makes me think of a teenager crossing into puberty (not sure of which sex since it's so frickn whiney and gives me headache) B)Murdoc's voice just scares me plain period. 3 Noodle's nick name for 2D was a moment of pure, I'm not sure which, insanity and brilliance. Mostly just from an overdose of phase one Noodle cuteness and sugar. Nee is the Japanese word for 2, and, well, there's no real translation for D', so when she says the two together . . .  
**

Needy? Tea? Noodle chirruped sweetly, pouring him another cup anyway.

2D replayed with the same enthusiasm, and dunked in a butter cookie complacently.

The two, after a particularly hard, but extremely remarkable jam session, decided to celebrate their success with a nice tea party set up on the cleared out floor of the studio kitchen. They resided at a low girl-child's table, white and edged with pink lace and flowers, and sat on two very squat matching chairs. The set was an awkward first present from a producer, and although she had far out grown it physically, the joy of getting something that symbolized her initiatiation into the band never did. She reached out a hand for the cookie tin, all smiles, but when she felt the cold, hard, and most notably, empty container, she froze. 2D looked up, concerned. She perked up in a flash.

Be back. We out. he nodded understandably and she skipped off to look for more. After he was sure she was really gone, he whipped out the missing cookies from underneath his shirt. Taking a shockingly brightly labeled bottle with nothing but crossbones on it to suggest it's contents from his back pocket , he gently put a few drops of the mysterious liquid in his cup, turning the formerly brown drink to a violent purple, and swished it around to mix the contents. It turned back to it's normal coloration just as the Axe Princess came back. He sighed happily, and they toasted.

Except that Noodle's cup completely missed his and was pressed to his lips instead of joyfully clinking together. In horror, he watched as his cup made the way to her lips and the girl giggling take a huge gulp.

Tradition! Test trust and show close hearts, were her last, though wisely put, words as she collapsed into the ground with a soft thud.

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Taking a deep, deep breath to calm him self, a unusually restrained Murdoc pressed play on the track player for another round of humiliation. The beautiful music, light and airy, drifted from the stereos like an exotic perfume from a fantastic dream, full of sunlight after a summer's storm, of lazy days slept away in a gently swaying hammock, of the utter joy of the peace and contentment of one's soul after it had found true happiness. Then a voice, broken and sad like a child's toy forgotten, lilted in:

_sound waves fill me through  
vibrations cover me deep  
as the amp lulls me to  
a deep, inner sleep_

if the bass is my pillow  
and the chords are my sheet  
how long will I it take you  
to realize I wont take heed -

**SNAP!**_  
_

Just when he'd finally gotten it and not got lost in the song it's self, one of his cords broke. And that wasn't all that broke.

As the next stream of words are too incomprehensible and not fit for the foulest sewage to hear, I shall kindly dismiss Murdoc's, though impressive, quarter hour rant, and leave him after he's all out of breath and nasty things to say, many about your mother I understand, and is heaving like the billows. Somewhere along the way he ripped off his shirt in the excitement and sweat rolled down his hairy chest like Niagara Falls, soaking his waistband, not that he notest. He plopped down dejected on a crap plastic chair, and sighed.

Senior member of the band or no, he was by far the worst player. In Mexico, he hadn't quite gotten the chance to sit down and practice in the band's long absence like his fellows and it showed. Painfully. For the first time in a very very long time, he was disgusted and ashamed of himself. Even face-ache had improved, and he was secretly impressed and in awe of them all. Not that he'd admit it. The worst part was this stupid track. It was brilliant, but he always messed up. It was even a beginners tune that Stu-Pot could play without his medication! Mortified, he vowed to make up for it by playing till his fingers bleed, and even after that, to perfect.

The track was 2D's brainchild and he very quietly brought it up at a sit down meeting. He'd originally written it, he said, when he was about Noodle's age, and recently reworked it. He'd looked like a kindergartner at his first day of school when he'd presented it to them. Murdoc remember this very vividly because he swore the prat was about to piss his pants, if he hadn't already, waiting for their approval. It was the first song entirely written by him they'd seen, and they were obviously surprised. Other than the keyboard, they didn't know he could play much else, but all the notes were there, large and sloppy, but wonderful. Noodles and Russell showed their appreciation, but they all knew they wouldn't even start it until he gave them the okay. He nodded.

Stu-pot, take the lead, and said not a word more. Then the boy took over skipping and dancing like a proper loon, ordering them all about, nicely, asking for a bit more of this and less of that from the others, but never him, which was the real reason the song never got past his entrance. 

He clicked the play button once more and listened, trying to get back into the song and relax.

_to the sounds of your guitar  
singing voice, strumming strong  
as your fingers play tricks, now  
I'll be hypnotized for a while_

the memories of our basement  
are starting to fade away  
hum me a few notes, please  
and I think I'll be ok

take me to that place  
the place that I was born  
where the amplifiers ring  
and the guitars soar

take me home

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2D was immobile with shock, and sat there for a few moments, deathly still.

Then, slowly and deliberately, he curled up into a ball and rocked gently back and fourth, unblinking and mouth agape. He simply shut down. His eyes were unseeing holes as he stared at what he feared to be Noodles corpse. His body was like a sick human metronome; mesmerizing in it's all too perfect rhythm.

Back and fourth.

Back and fourth.

Back and fourth.

Back and . . .

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All of them could relate to the song, thought a oddly mellowed out Murdoc. Growing up, music was what they clinged to, what they lived for, what drove them. Thinking about those first baby steps into his current line of work even made his normally slated eyes to even out a bit in happy remembrance. There was always that one tune you could never get away from, it was your first song. The one you dedicated your life and soul to, more literally in his case, and was forever imprinted upon your brain, the one, nearly thirty years later, you could still play it in your sleep you practiced it so much. There was such a golden nostalgia about it, which made you feel all warm and fuzzy inside. It was here this train of thought was halted, robbed, and dropped off the end of a cliff. Fond memories of your first guitar were good, just as long as they were fleeting and private, nothing so mushy like that pansy 2D. And was it just him, or did his mind always seemed to wander to the singer's? He decisively killed that thought too as he sent a crawling zombie flying out of the door with a swat from his bass. A home run' as they called it. He watched as the writhing form flew gracefully out and into what appeared to be a rampaging Russell.

Murdoc! MURDOC! You've got to come to the kit-! the undead missile hit him square in the chest, knocking the large man out cold.

What, we ran out of pork rinds? he laughed, walking past the drummer's lifeless form. But something he knew was really wrong. He could feel it, twisting up his gut and spin like a boa trying to squeeze him into a meal. He gulped, panic rising. Everything was dead quiet in Kong', and he did not like it one bit. The psychosomatic snake rose up and gripped his throat, and for a second he couldn't breath. He started to walk faster, shouting his band mates names.

His pace quickened as the minuets rolled by without an answer.

Arse-face! Where the fucking hell are you! he screamed, running as fast he could to the kitchen. Gulping, he tried again. Needy! Needy! he heard the little girl's cries, wake up Needy! Space cadet land!

Murdoc ran as fast he could but with each step he feared it wasn't fast enough. He pushed him self hard as he raced down the corridors, taking out anything unfortunate enough to cross his path.

Stu-Pot you'd better be fucking alive or I'm going to kill you! he roared, and cleared the last obstacle, a little white stool, and landed, taking in breaths like a fish out of water.

W-wh-what the hell is wrong, he swallowed, trying to release the utter fear around his voice box, tell me!We have tea party and I drink from he cup and I sleep when wake up he-! she sobbed, rubbing the singers face for some kind of reaction to her touch. He did not blink nor flinch, his gaze was steadfastly held to where she'd lain, moments before, in lala land. Murdoc stared at the boy before him. He'd seen people like this, in mental hospitals, their brain activity hardly above a flat line, nearly comatose from a mental break down.

He slapped 2D violently, punched him even, square in the nose, kicked him in the sides. He was an unlovable rock, and, even when he tried to pick him up he wouldn't budge an inch. His eyes were like a blank computer screen's, dead to the world. And he just kept rocking, and rocking, in that exact same way that it was entirely unnatural. He looked his worst, his skin and bones frame sticking out in harsh lines more skeletal than flesh, his hair like shards of glass, and his eyes- Murdoc could bear to look at his eyes, it was just too sad.

Just then a familiar blue mass float over to them, giving a low whistle.

Daaaamn his soul is just having a really hissy an't it? said Del, tutting, and trailed around the boy to get the 360.

I might be able to help, but it's not going to be pretty; I'm goin' to have to coax his soul for a chat, you should probably leave. He turned to the two humans and he knew they weren't going anywhere. Sighing, he tapped on the boy's noggin, which, almost comically if this wasn't a time to laugh, a hollow sound emitted.

came a sniveling, what sounded like, young Stu-Pot.

Can you come out and talk to me for a bit? came the reply from deep with in, echoing off the emptiness of the occupant, resonating with childish impertanist.

Please? These people here are really worried about you, cooed Del smoothly, but the retort came back harsher than before.

NO! People bad! All they ever do is hurt meeee . . . it wailed, but it's not even t-there fault even! It's all my fault it's always my fault and I- I CAN'T HELP IT! it shrieked, bursting out into fresh tears. Del was getting very frustrated at this point, after all, it wasn't like he cared for the kid tin the first place, he was just trying to suck up to his host so he wouldn't get exorcized.

I've got some cookies, he tried half heatedly, half joking, but the little soul responded to this.

the soul said tentatively, and peeped it's head out from 2D's skull. It was a cherubic face cubby cheeks tear stained and still flowing from huge black eyes. One disproportionate eye had a bruise over it, and his left check had a huge scar. There was another scar racing across it's forehead, but it was covered by soft blue hair flowing in a nameless breeze. Murdoc couldn't think of what to say. The baby formed band mate covered in such ugly abuse could not be any more underscribily beautiful to him, and his mismatched eyes softened to a look almost described as fondness. The hopeful little face didn't stray from it's resolve.

C-could you bring me some milk, pwease? it said as it took a cookie from Del's gentle hand and simutainiously brushed tears from it's eyes. Noodle brought the milk in one of her tea cups, the ones who'd started this whole mess, and handed it to the tiny babe. He finally came out of it's host and shook out what appeared to be the most amazing black bird wings. It reminded Murdoc of his pet crows', and he nearly reached out to touch them. But they were angel wings, he could understand that. No crow had feathers so heavenly soft, he thought as they brushed against him in their unfouldling. Apparently it was a bit cramped in there. He was a tainted little soul. If he thought his face was bad, his body was worse with injuries, so mottled it was and discolored, he could barley make out 2D's soul's pale creme skin. He noticed some scars on him that he recognized immediately, because he himself was the cause. This form was so over poweringly gorgeous, the Saintanist nearly wanted to go down on his knees and pray for forgiveness and repent his ways. But he was simply too awed to do even that.

Noodles was more sensible. When the soul saw her, he leapt at her face, nuzzling against her and showering her with baby kisses and tears. Each time it touched her, a shock of pure and unadulterated Stu-Pot'ness electrified her own soul, and she had to get him off her before she'd faint with over stimulus. He seemed to recognize this and moved away, apologizing even more.

Everything is always my fault! I can't help it! I'm not going to take anymore pills now, I mean it! Really! it's voice, now unfiltered was his body's but not at all. It seemed to be constantly singing in a way only souls know how, and this one's was a heaven's joy choirs of tears. It was just then that it's host woke up and saw them. He smiled, slowly, and laughed.

Hey Noodles, you all right? Murdoc? the 39 year old just stood there, not sure of what to do. The little soul disappeared with a pop, as did Del, feeling his work was finished.

Murdoc didn't know what to do. He felt enlighten and changed because of the least likely, or was it the most likely, person he'd expect. Finally, he smiled, not showing off his hideous teeth, but kindly, and gave him a hug.

Welcome back -----

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**AN: Weird little ficclet. The song is mine, no take-ies. And, yes, I was around Noodles' age when I wrote it. Review my little darlings.**


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